There and Back Again - Again
by TMI Fairy
Summary: Bilbo never reached Valinor. The Valar sent him back to 1340 to do better this time. Will Bilbo find the courage to tell Thorin how he really felt about him?


**AN:**

If the events at Goblin Town look strange to you, dear reader, then it is because they are from the bookverse and not from fan fiction by Peter Jackson.

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Bilbo woke up. This was in no way extraordinary, as all living creatures wake up. Getting out of bed is another thing, for teens and tweens in particular. However, due to his very, very advanced age Bilbo – in moments of lucidity – did not expect to wake up when he went to bed. He hoped to pass away silently in the night. What was unusual was that he did not feel any pain. At his age all sorts of joints and organs had a tendency to hurt, some often, some most of the time, and yet others all the time. So, with his eyes still closed, Bilbo stretched his limbs and flexed his muscles and did not feel any pain. He must be in The Halls of Mandos then, he thought with a smile. He was dead and did not feel pain anymore. But he did feel his bladder ... so, death did not free him from peeing and pooping? What a let down ...

He finally opened his eyes to head for the bucket and immediately blinked. He was not on the elven ship but in Bag End! Were there "bad 'shrooms" in his dinner? After venturing outside his room and alternatively raging, crying, fainting for a day or two Bilbo finally accepted that he was either tripping like back in 1399 – when he knew that he had lost a week in hallucinations after some belladonna slipped in amongst edible berries - or he was in fact back in 1340. Or so the Gardeners' Calendar with All Auspicious Dates for Planting and Harvesting on the wall said. He shuddered at the memory of the tripping - a particularly livid hallucination had him dancing in front of Morgoth in Luthien's steed - all was fine until the racist bigot objected to his furry feet - very finely brushed before the performance, thank you very much - and had him fed to the wargs live.

After a week he began to venture out of his home – as Bilbo had eaten through the perishables of his pantries – and interacted with his neighbours. There were just as he remembered them from this period, although later years had often erased those memories and interposed their own. And it was way awkward! He spoke with people at whose wakes he had been – and given the eulogy too! Creepy!

As he was seeing his life play out the way it had before he knew that the Quest was coming. Or was very likely. This time he would be prepared. He began to toughen himself up by taking long walks and by chopping all his neighbours' firewood. He also ordered some appropriate clothing. Bilbo did not go overboard with equipment knowing that it would be lost in Goblin Town anyway. But a small backpack's worth was possible. He would have to remember the gate closing on him, though. The previous time around he only had lost some coat buttons – this time a backpack could get him stuck and killed!

The Quest made him think of what had to happen for something else to happen. Of what could he change? Of what he could not change.

In the evenings, in a hot bath soothing his sore and weary muscles, he recalled the faces of the thirteen dwarrow. One of them in particular. Thorin. The memory of Thorin made his blood boil and cheeks redden, his breath accelerate and nostrils flare.

And then came The Day. Gandalf showed up. Bilbo said his lines just as he had once before. At times he had problems with keeping a serious face but he managed.

When the dwarrow arrived he was ready. He beat Dwalin on the head with a poker to drive home the message that "yes, he was serious, Dwalin was to eat outside and before he got any food he had to set up the grilling area first".

Soon the others arrived and the garden party – which entered local legend – was in full swing. To save himself the bother of washing up Bilbo had exhausted the local shops' stocks of cheap, low quality, good-for-one-time-only wooden plates and bowls. He preferred to pick his battles and fighting 13 dwarves to force them to wash up was one which he knew he would not win.

The Quest then progressed as it should have, with slightly less verbal abuse and disparaging remarks of the dwarves as this time Bilbo gave as good as he got. The first change happened at Goblin Town. Bilbo had worn his coat over his little backpack. Thus the orcs mistook him for a hump-backed dwarf and marvelled greatly at this as they had not seen – and eaten – such a creature yet. This earned him extra pinching and fondling. Eww.

Whilst his heart screamed "no!" Bilbo's mind forced him to let events run as they should. And they did – when he regained consciousness after hitting his head after being "dropped" by Dori Bilbo wandered about blindly until he found the Ring and played riddles with Gollum. This time he did not let Gollum live and stabbed the miserable wretch in the back once the ex-hobbit had led him near the gate. He had put his hand on the creature's mouth to stifle its cries. Hence, when Bilbo reached the vicinity of the gate the guards were not alert and were not looking IN, but OUT only, and the orcs missed the Ring slipping off his finger. Damn thing had a mind of its own!

The hobbit put the Ring back on and reached the gate unnoticed – this time he did not have to crawl between goblins' legs to get to it. But he still cast a shadow which the orc guards noticed – so he had to RUN!

It was at Beorn's that Bilbo put his foot down. He flatly refused to use the Elven Path. Fighting spiders, hiding in the Elvenking's halls and being a barrel rider had been exciting once - sometimes even fun - but he did not yearn to repeat the experience if there was an alternative. Bilbo pointed out that taking the Old Road of the Dwarves made the journey minimally longer, that there was certainty that the road actually existed – as Thorin had even thread it personally a few months ago – and that it kept them away from the Elvenking's Halls. He pleaded, begged, cried, cajoled until Gandalf confessed to last taking the Elf Path "a few centuries ago" and not being able to vouch for its current condition. This argument – plus bribing Thorin to get on his side by allowing the dwarf some minor liberties – made the whole Company support him against the Istar. So this time they released the ponies back to Boern's care at the entrance of the Old Forest Road. With a wider path, no Enchanted Stream and not having to carry Bombur they made good time across the Mirkwood. Although they barely made it through the spider nests.

"The level of shit you get must be a constant" – Bilbo surmised. The combo of Ring&Sting again was bad news for the spiders and a salvation of the Company. To his embarrassment after he freed the dwarves from the spiders' webs Thorin hugged and kissed him – on the cheek, thank be to Illuvatar – in public. The other dwarves also looked embarrassed.

Even worse than the spiders was running out of food two days before Laketown. A good thing that water was plentiful. They reached the town very hungry but still in good shape.

Then everything happened as it should. They found the Door, Bilbo pissed off Smaug, Smaug burnt Laketown, Bard killed Smaug, Thorin went bonkers, Bard and Thranduil showed up at Erebor seeking damages and prize money, Thorin went into lalaland, Bilbo nicked the Arkenstone, Dain showed up, Bolg showed up too, bringing some friends along, big fight, Thorin lost his last two grey cells and charged the whole orc army, Eagles show up, Bilbo boinked on bonce, Beorn killed Bolg, Forces of the Light won.

After the battle Bilbo finally got to tell Thorin how he really felt about him. The Hobbit bent over the pallet where the noble dwarf was dieing and hissed into Thorin's ear:

"I'm glad to see the last of you. You tried to get into my pants the whole journey here and did not accept "no" as an answer. At the same time you belittled me - "grocer", "lost since we left", "half way back to the Shire" - while your hands tried to roam over my body. Good riddance to you, you filthy pervert!"

Bilbo rose and walked away, caring naught for Thorin's reaction.

Bilbo got up before the dawn of the next day. He knew that there was a meeting he could not miss. His short legs brought him to the desired place just as Dain fixed gold ornaments to the bird declaring Gwaihir to be the King of All Birds. Afterwards Bilbo managed to shoo Dain away yet keeping Gwaihir and Gandalf for a parley.

"Gandalf, Gwaihir. We need to go to Mordor. This will save the Middle Earth much misery. We ..."

"Whoa there, my dear Bilbo. What are you babbling about? Aren't you getting a touch too big for your trousers, as they say in the Shire?"

Bilbo decided to go for the simple explanation.

"I have the One Ring. Yes, that One Ring. It must be cast into the Orodruin."

Gandalf went all wizardly and appeared to be even taller than he actually was. The air around him darkened. It seemed that some mystic energy swirled and crackled around him. Gandalf's gaze became as harsh and unforgiving as that of Bilbo's cousin Bungalo when denied second helpings.

"You never cease to surprise me. You are much more than you appear to be ..."

"So are you" – Bilbo snapped back.

"So are you," Bilbo repeated and added – "Olorin ..." with a sneering hiss.

Gandalf looked poleaxed. His eyes lost their trademark twinkle.

He gave the hobbit a hard appraising look.

"I see that you are no longer the soft bunny frightened of its own shadow that had left the Shire half a year ago. I see that now you are now equal to the Bunny of Caer Baennorr of legend, equally hard and merciless and with a mean streak a mile wide. Have I created a monster?" – the last words the wizard mumbled under his breath. Everybody ignored this, as old people are prone to mumbling nonsense under their breath.

The trio began a round of negotiations, finally roping in Beorn as well. To sway the noble bird Bilbo paid the Beornings a certain sum, enough to pay for them to deliver ten sheep every day to the bank of the Anduin at the Carrock every day for the next forty nine years. And not to shoot at the Eagles when they swooped with impossible to describe grace to snatch the ovine tribute.

The Eagles carried the duo – with the wizard still fuming – to Mount Doom where Bilbo cast the One Ring into the hot crevices of the volcano. As the hobbit could not bring himself to unclasp the hand grasping the chain upon which the Ring was suspended Gandalf whacked his wrist with his gnarled staff a moment before Bilbo claimed the Ring for himself. With a shriek of pain Bilbo opend his fist, thus releasing the Evil! artifact to tumble into the hot folds of Mount Doom. Gandalf never admitted that he had used more force than necessary and did not even bother to look sheepish about it. The Grey Pilgrim DID NOT like to be manipulated. It took a month for the hobbit's broken forearm to heal.

The Eagles rescued the heroes from being cooked by the lava flowing out from the crevices of the Orodruin but did not take them far. They dumped them at nearest outpost of the forces of Gondor, next to the fort on the island of Cair Andros on the Anduin. There Gandalf browbeat the head of the garrison and obtained horses and ponies for himself and the hobbit.

The wizard and the hobbit then made haste across Rohan. After resting a few days in Orthank – where the host, Saruman, appeared to be somewhat out of sorts, apparently suffering from the change in magicks of Middle Earth after the destruction of the One – they set their mounts upon the Greenway and sprinted across the soggy lands of Dunland (it was the spring thaw) to Bree, whence to the Shire and Hobbiton and Bag End.

Bilbo insisted on such haste as he wished to prevent the auction of his "estate". They were successful and reached Bag End two days before the auction was to take place. Some theft of property had nevertheless occurred. Damn those Sackville-Baggins and other greedy hobbits! Bilbo hired the most predatory lawyers of the Shire and recovered the goods and ruined the perpetrators financially with damages for "mental discomfort" over loosing heirlooms.

Bilbo then scandalised the Shire again by proposing to Lobelia Bracegirdle - thirty years his junior - when she was just past the "jailbait" threshold, when the young beauty became 25 years of age and Statutory Rape no longer applied. And contrary to expectations – as what else could be expected from an unrespectable Hobbit who ran off to an adventure? - he had not gotten her in a family way first. This was evidenced by their wedding being set to over half a year after the betrothal. And no matter how hard they tried, all the Hobbit lasses jealous of Lobelia snaring the richest bachelor in the Shire could not discern any signs of pregnancy under her wedding dress. All the visible curves were simply those of attractive femininity. At least the dress stood up to expectations of the unusual. It was revealing. Well past daring and deep into outrageously revealing territory, even. But still shy of scandalously revealing, unlike the one Begonia Potclay had worn at her wedding to Amalric Cooper. Lobelia did not seem to care about the whispers concerning her attire, her eyes for Bilbo only. Only his approval mattered to the feisty spirited blonde.

Unbeknownst to the rustic – one must not shy from that word – Hobbits, the courtship of Bilbo and Lobelia did involve hot and heavy petting sessions, occasionally leading to non-penetrative sex. Defying expectations but true to convention they both were saving "it" for the wedding night. At one time Bilbo had thought that the hours he had spent in Rivendell listening to Glorfindel boast of how he had been sent to Arda by the Valar as a gift to its womenfolk and how they "could not get enough of ..." or "begged him for release when he ..." or "left her limp and boneless after ..." were time wasted. Lobelia's cries of ecstasy – muffled by a pillow or anything appropriate on hand – made him now consider it time well spent. This proved to be particularly true after the wedding.

Bilbo Baggins died in his bed soon after his ninety ninth birthday, surrounded by his family. His wife Lobelia, sons Frodo and Bingo, and daughters Shiriel, Muriel and Cloeriel. He left a score of grandchildren - too numerous to list here.


End file.
